Day Three: Broken Hill
After nearly 14 hours on the road, even International Roast tastes good. 200km today to reach Broken Hill from Yunta. Awoke to 15 degrees and a 30km side wind which made riding really difficult. Then, at Cockburn, where I had to pay for water, it started raining. I have a short 75km to Little Topar tomorrow, where I confidently predict it will be snowing; nothing else is left!
I thought the oddity of the day was the semi trailer which passed me with a full load of tires.. all four of them. They were hanging two feet off the road and two feet into the right lane. But that was topped by a semi coming from Broken Hill, or further east, with at least 10 swimming pools all stacked up like breakfast bowls in a cupboard!
The grave is on the edge of the road in the Thackeringa Hills. In the dusk it felt like the loneliest place in Australia.
Way past time for bed. No lectionary commentary this week, although there is something preternatural about the isolation. I think those who reckon someone made up the story of the Transfiguration have been spending too much time in the city. But thinking there would have been five blokes in a photo is a category mistake.
